Miss Emmaline And The Archangel Part 21

Chapter 13.

Monday morning brought sunshine to Conard County. The fresh layers of snow lay like pristine blankets over everything, but the sun was warm, the air was calm and Christmas was only a week away.

Gage pondered that as he drove Emma to the library and personally escorted her to her desk. He needed to find something to give her, he thought. Something special. Something memorable. Because suddenly he couldn't stand the thought of Emma having a Christmas without one precious memory to store up.

"Promise me you won't go anywhere alone," he said as he helped her out of her parka.

"I promise." For the umpteenth time in the last half hour. His edginess was beginning to make her edgy, too. "Gage, I'm just going to be sitting here at this desk the way I do five days of every week. I can't go anywhere, because I get paid to be here."

"Okay." He was being ridiculously overprotective. He knew it, but he couldn't help it. You couldn't suffer the losses he had suffered and ever again be entirely comfortable with the safety of someone you cared about. No way. "I'll pick you up for lunch at one."

"I'll be ready." She would be, too. Even though she was pretending impatience, she loved every bit of his concern for her. Where once there was only a cold bleakness in his gaze, she now saw warmth. How could anyone dislike that?

"Okay." Bending, he gave her a quick, hard kiss on her mouth. "Look out, Miss Emma. I'm already hungry for you again. By tonight I'll be crazy with it."

Emma blushed profusely, but she laughed. "Me, too," she managed to admit softly. This kind of frankness was new to her, but she thought she liked it.

Gage astonished her with a broad, warm smile, a smile unlike any he had ever given her. It was a young smile, the smile of a happy man. Emma caught her breath and watched as her silver-haired archangel pivoted and strode from the library.

The report of Emma's a.s.sault was waiting on Gage's desk when he reached his office. The Express Mail envelope was still sealed, preserving her privacy.

From everyone but him.

He was reluctant to invade her privacy, even though it wasn't really an invasion. He was a police investigator working on a case, and that meant he had to look beyond every closed door and curtained window in search of information that could be useful. Still, he hesitated. His personal relationship with Emma complicated the ethics of things, but it was more than that, he realized after a moment. Much more.

He didn't want to know what had happened to her. He didn't want to read the callous, jargon-laden descriptions of every detail. He didn't want to read the cold, feelingless report of an event that had wounded Emma so terribly.

It had happened ten years ago, but for Gage, learning this all for the first time, it was going to be fresh. It was going to be today. Deep inside himself, he knew he was going to feel a rage unequaled by any except the rage he had felt over the loss of his family. He knew he was going to suffer a fresh agonizing wound.

But he had to know. He had to know in case there was an overlooked clue. He had to know because Emma was remembering, and somebody in this G.o.dforsaken world had to understand the things she wouldn't be able to say.

He opened the envelope.

The photocopies of the police file made a thick stack. At the top was the initial report detailing the discovery of Emma in a trash bin in an alley behind a bar. One of the cooks at the bar had evidently noticed something suspicious in the alley and called to report a prowler. When the police arrived, they found no prowler, but a sound from the bin had drawn their attention. Investigating, they had found Emma. The cook was unable to tell them a thing about the man he had seen except that he was large, heavily bundled in dark winter clothing, and his hair had been concealed by a stocking cap. Not one useful thing.

Following were several pages devoted to the fruitless questioning of others who had been in the area at about the right time. Then came page upon page of medical reports detailing Emma's injuries. Nineteen stab wounds. Countless small burn marks, presumably from a cigarette. A star fracture of the skull resulting from a blow by a blunt instrument. Surgery to remove a clot on the brain. Other operations to repair the damage caused by the stab wounds. Two separate operations to repair shattered bone in one arm. Eventually a hysterectomy resulting directly from sepsis of one of the stab wounds. No evidence of s.e.xual a.s.sault.

That was truly odd, Gage thought. This type of violent crime against a woman usually involved s.e.xual a.s.sault, as well. Ignoring the way his hands were shaking, he turned to the report by the forensic psychiatrist who had been asked to profile the crime and perpetrator. There was little there that Gage hadn't read before, but one thing stuck out: the psychiatrist believed the perpetrator had been startled before he had fulfilled his intentions, had stabbed her in an attempt to kill her immediately, and then had dumped her.

Emma was most likely alive only because her attacker had panicked.

The file closed on the note that the victim, upon recovering consciousness, was unable to recall the events of that night.

Rage shook Gage, every bit as strong as he had expected and then some. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone treating Emma that way, the thought of anyone hurting her that way. He would have loved to smash something, anything, to give vent to some of his anger, but in the end it wouldn't help at all.

But he couldn't meet Emma for lunch. Not with what he had just read so fresh in his mind. Not when he was so furious he needed to destroy something. He reached for the phone and called her.

"Conard County Public Library. Emmaline Conard speaking."

Even the sound of her voice over the telephone affected him, he realized almost ruefully. s.e.xy. Sweet. Warm. "Sweetheart, it's Gage."

"Oh, hi!" A smile was suddenly apparent in her voice. "Did you forget to give me some warning or other? Or did you overlook a promise you want me to give?"

Her teasing warmed him, and he felt a silly, c.o.c.keyed smile grow on his face, driving his anger back into a darker place. "There're all kinds of promises I want," he growled laughingly. "We'll get to those later. About lunch ... something came up..."

"Oh."

d.a.m.n, she sounded disappointed. But he couldn't face her, not yet. Not for an hour of pretending to be cheerful over lunch. He needed time to cope with his anger and his knowledge of what had happened to her. "Listen, I'll have Sara bring something over for you and keep you company. She'll be thrilled to get away from the front desk."

"Sure, that would be great. I haven't really had a chance to talk to her in weeks. One o'clock?"

"I'll have her call if that's not a good time."

But Sara thought it was a great time. She eyed Gage a little curiously when he suggested she stand in for him, but she didn't comment. But then, Sara seldom offered an opinion about the stupid things other people did, at least, not apart from her job as a deputy.

"Sure," she said, accepting Gage's suggestion amiably. "Emma and I can compare notes about you. That's always fun."

Gage paused in the midst of turning back to his office. "Compare notes?" He caught a gleam in Sara's brown eyes.

"Yeah," she said with a shrug. "Girl talk, you know? Whether you or Ed has the best buns in the department... Well, maybe we ought to consider Micah, too..."

Gage took a threatening step toward her, which sent her off into a peal of laughter. Smothering his own reluctant smile, he headed back to his office.

Micah showed up moments after Sara left. Marriage agreed with the big Indian, Gage thought as he watched Micah, ordinarily taciturn, joke lazily with Velma and Nate. Gage had only known him for a few months, but even he could see the new relaxation and quiet happiness in that harsh face.

"What's happening with the mutilations?" Micah asked Gage finally.

"Things are getting complicated. Come on back and I'll tell you about it."

Micah and Nate both followed him back, bearing mugs of coffee with them. In Gage's office they settled on chairs while he closed the door and rounded his desk. As briefly as possible, Gage and Nate brought Micah up to date on the events of the past week, including the several things that had happened to Miss Emma. And now, because it was relevant to the case, Gage gave Micah a bare-bones account of the Laramie attack on Miss Emma. Gage didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when Micah leaped to the same conclusion linking Emma and the cattle mutilations at the c.u.mberland ranch. He might have felt easier about Emma's safety if Micah hadn't also felt that the mutilator might be after her, but then, he might also have simply become more worried.

"It would take the same kind of mind, I guess," Micah said. He accepted the psychological profile of Emma's attacker from Gage and scanned it quickly. "Well, h.e.l.l," he muttered. "What kind of blood was it in that pentagram on her driveway?"

"I was just about to call the lab to see if they've reached any conclusion."

"I'll do that," Nate said. "You fill Micah in on the story about Don Fenster torturing a dog. And that reminds me, I was going to pull Fenster's rap sheet for you."

As Gage told the deputy how Emma had creamed Don Fenster for abusing a dog all those years ago, Micah's brow lowered in a scowl.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah. There could be a connection. It's sure as h.e.l.l the only possibility we've got. Maybe we ought to make a little visit to the Fenster place."

"Without a warrant?"

Micah smiled faintly. "I've never needed a warrant to go anyplace I've wanted to go. Never."

Gage returned the smile with a small one of his own. "Not exactly admissible evidence."

"We can get a warrant," Nate said, startling them both as he rejoined them. "Your friend at the lab says the blood on Emma's driveway appears to match that last mutilated steer we found. They're running confirmatory tests right now."

Gage swore. Adrenaline pumped through him in a sudden surge, bringing him to his feet, creating a need to act. "That settles the little-green-men question."

"Easy, Gage," Nate said. "Fenster might seem obvious, but it could be someone else-although, I have to admit, I can't think of anyone nearly as likely off the top of my head. Anyhow, we need to explore possibilities here. Knowing there's a link helps, but-"

Gage interrupted. "Walt Severn told me Fenster has a bunch of his friends staying out there with him. 'Creeps' was the word he used."

Nate appeared struck. "Friends. Creeps. A cult?"

"That's what I'm wondering. Walt said they've been living off the old lady for months."

"I can sure as h.e.l.l look into it," Micah said. "Quietly. See if there's anything to it."

Nate was beginning to nod; he knew Micah's capacity to pa.s.s over the landscape like a wraith, invisible to anyone who didn't know where to look.

Just then Gage's extension buzzed. He picked up the receiver. "What is it, Velma?" he said to the dispatcher.

"Sara just radioed, Gage. Miss Emma's gone from the library, and no one knows where she got to."

Her car was still in the lot behind the building. Mr. Craig had been there all morning, but he confessed he had fallen asleep behind the stacks and hadn't heard or noticed a thing. Emma's a.s.sistant, Linda, wasn't scheduled to show up until two o'clock, so that meant Emma's disappearance had left the library unattended. And no one believed Miss Emma would have done that by choice.

Standing on the steps of the library, Gage looked up the street through the gray lace of leafless trees, across the blindingly white snow, out toward the edge of town. Toward the vast barrenness of the wintry landscape.

Such a bright, beautiful day. Once before, on a day like this, he had lost everything. Today, faced with Emma's disappearance, realization struck him like a spear in the chest. Somehow, some way, she had become his life. She had become everything that mattered. And he was losing everything all over again.

"Son." Nate's gravelly growl hauled Gage back. "You and Micah head on out to the Fenster place. I'll have a warrant in my hands before you get there. Check in before you set foot on his property, though. I'll let you know what we're doing to support you."

Gage didn't doubt for a minute that Nate would get the warrant. Everybody in Conard County owed Nathan Tate a few favors. He gave a short, sharp nod and headed down the steps. Micah caught up with him.

"We'll take my unit," Micah said. "I've got an a.r.s.enal stashed in the back."

As they sped away from town, Micah at the wheel, Gage squeezed his eyes shut against the painful beauty of the day and prayed for the first time since his world had blown up in his face. He prayed they weren't headed in the wrong direction- what did they have to go on except some farfetched conclusions?-prayed they wouldn't be too late, prayed Emma wasn't as terrified as she must be, that she hadn't been hurt.

There had been little in his life to persuade him that heaven ever listened, but Miss Emmaline Conard, with her gentle nature and caring heart, had taught him that heaven existed. Even an archangel from h.e.l.l recognized it when he was faced with it.

Micah offered no false a.s.surances, didn't even seek to distract him with aimless conversation. Micah understood what he was going through, down to the smallest twinge of conscience and the largest stab of fear. He just kept driving, a little too fast, but with steady hands on the wheel.

Oh, G.o.d, Gage thought desperately. Dear G.o.d, don't let us be too late.

When Tam Tennyson came running into the library a little before one o'clock to tell Miss Emma that somebody had backed into her car, Emma had no cause to doubt him. Tam was one of her favorite children, a six-year-old with carroty hair and freckles. Emma never looked at him without envying the Tennysons.

"The man said he'll wait, Miss Emma. You gotta get the 'surance stuff."

Emma supposed she did. She never imagined it was a subterfuge, not even when she recognized Don Fenster and a strange man standing beside the pickup that had backed into the side of her car. Tam ran off, back to whatever he'd been doing earlier, leaving her alone with the two men in the lot behind the building. It was then that she experienced a p.r.i.c.kle of unease, but she promptly dismissed it. She was always feeling uneasy about something lately, and it was broad daylight, for goodness' sake!

"I dented your door, Miss Emma," Don Fenster said, speaking the first words he had spoken to her in nearly twenty years. Stepping aside, he gave her room to look.

Emma bent, surveying the damage, wondering only if she would be able to open and close the door now. Recognizing that Don could have driven off without letting her know he had hit her, she wanted to be fair. "Let's just see if it opens and closes all right, Don. If it does, we'll just forget-"

Before the last words left her mouth, a blanket was thrown over her head, m.u.f.fling her outraged cry in thick, hot wool. Her hands were seized, and a cord was wrapped around them so tightly that it cut.

"Now you just shut up, woman," a strange voice growled. "You shut up, 'cause I'll hit you every time you squeak." He gave her a sharp cuff for good measure.

She was roughly shoved into a cold, confined place, probably the toolbox in the pickup bed, she thought as shock began to give way to terror.

Don Fenster. Oh, my G.o.d, it was Don Fenster. Memory crashed through her, casting her into a prison of horror so deep that everything else receded, like a pinp.r.i.c.k of light that grew smaller and ever smaller.

Until the only thing that was left was the dark.

Micah keyed the microphone on his radio and told Velma to let Nate know he and Gage were in place, a half mile up the county road from Fenster's gate.

Velma acknowledged, and Micah clipped the mike to the collar of his jacket. "You got a radio?" he asked Gage.

"Yeah. In my Suburban."

Micah twisted and reached behind his seat. "Here. Take my spare."

"Thanks."

The sun had sunk low, casting golden and pink light across the rippled snow. It looked like a vast sea, Gage thought, all those open s.p.a.ces with occasional islands of leafless cottonwoods or rocky upthrusts. And somewhere out there was Emma. G.o.d, if he ever got his arms around her again...

He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to be calm, battering down all the urgent impulses to act. For Emma's sake, he reminded himself, he had to keep a clear head and think his actions through. Last time he had been able to do nothing for those he loved, but this time he was in a position to help. In a position to redeem himself.

What a stupid idea, he thought. What did one have to do with the other?

Suddenly Nate's voice crackled over the radio, bursting abruptly out of the silence. "We got the warrant. Three units are already on their way to help you. The Tennyson kid evidently saw who took Miss Emma. It was definitely Don Fenster."

Gage released a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding. They had come to the right place.

"If you go in there by yourselves, you be d.a.m.n careful," Nate cautioned. "Walt Severn says Fenster has five other guys staying with him. And if they're running some kind of weird cult, there's no telling how many other people might be involved."

Gage shifted impatiently but kept silent. He'd been dealing with superior officers for too many years to back talk one now. And, as usual, he would just go ahead and do whatever he felt was necessary.

Micah was evidently of similar mind. "We're going in, Nate. Miss Emma can't wait." With a click, he turned off the radio, then released the Blazer's brake.

"We're on our own," Micah remarked as they rolled forward toward Fenster's gate.

As they had been the night they rescued Faith Parish from her former husband, Gage thought. Hard to believe that had been only a month ago. Then, however, they had been up against only one man. This time they would face Fenster and an unknown number of his cronies.

"I recommend we drive in slowly and openly," he said to Micah. "As if it's just a routine call."